


The Wedding

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Delsifer, Fluff, Job done, Thanks for the ship names, Wedding, so many characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:24:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Newt and Anathema get married. What more is there to say?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wedding fics are just so lovely. So, here's mine. In which Newt and Anathema get married. Contains a whole entourage of Good Omens characters. Enjoy.  
> Also, thanks Euphoric_Mandelbulb and Zoya1416 for some ship names for Newt and Anathema. You two are a lot more creative than I will ever be with good ship names.

Aziraphale walked briskly across the street, talking rapidly. An excited expression was plastered on his face, and he was practically radiating joy. A unenthusiastic Crowley trailed behind him, whining like a child.

  
“I don’t see the point in this whole wedding thing. It’s so pointless.”  Aziraphale glared at Crowley.

  
“Well, of course you don’t. But I will not have you ruining Newt and Anathema’s special day!” he snapped, folding his arms.

  
The demon pulled at the collar of his fancy tux, grimacing. “Do we have to go?” he whimpered. “There’s absolutely no point!”

  
Aziraphale glared even harder at Crowley. “I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”

  
Crowley stared pointedly at the angel. “It’s in their back yard, angel. Their. Back. Yard.” Thinking more about it, he had a face of disgust. “And I think it’s so stupid that the silly humans press their mouths together.” He wrinkled his nose. “How pointless.”

  
“It’s romantic!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “It’s a beautiful gesture of love!” The demon just frowned further.

  
“It’s gross, is what it is. I don’t see why the silly humans do it.”

  
The angel seemed a little upset. “Don’t you feel love, Crowley?” he asked, suddenly serious. Crowley sighed.

  
“Love is for the weak,” he muttered, not entirely truthfully. Trying to divert attention from himself, he tugged at his tie, mumbling about how tight it was. Aziraphale shook his head.

  
They had nearly reached the house, and Aziraphale pulled Crowley aside.

  
“You’re going to be on your best behavior, you hear me? None of your silly shenanigans. You’re going to be good and not ruin this blessed day. Understand?”

  
Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes.” he sighed. “I’m not five, you know, angel.”

  
Aziraphale’s eyes softened, and he brightened up a little. He gave Crowley a small smile, and then entered the house. The demon took a deep breath, straightened his (uncomfortable) tie, and followed the angel.

  
The backyard was rather drab, but seemed to channel a feeling of home. It consisted of a few chairs strewn across the grass, and a small but rather pretty wedding arch, standing near the house. Newt had obviously bought it, by the way he was smiling proudly while Anathema admired it. A small, old piano sat in the corner of the garden, keys yellowed and faded.

  
Aziraphale bit his lip, blinking at the plain area. Crowley rolled his eyes yet again, knowing what Aziraphale was doing, and sat down on one of the chairs. Shadwell was already sitting a few seats across from the demon, heartily drinking out of a small metal flask from his pocket. Madame Tracy was perched next to him, nattering on about something unimportant.

  
Under the influence of the angel, the place suddenly brightened. The rather average weather cleared, revealing a blue sky carefully dotted with fluffy clouds. The wedding arch grew bigger, roses appearing and wrapping themselves around it in a swirling pattern. The chairs suddenly seemed more comfortable, and the wilting bushes around them sprung into shape, bursting with flowers. The angel smiled, pleased with his work, then sat down next to Crowley.

  
Shadwell turned around rapidly, squinting at Aziraphale beadily. “I’m onto ye, ye Southern pansy,” he croaked, fumbling with his flask. He pointed a single filthy finger, slowly moving it toward the angel. “I’m warning ye, if ye do anythin’, you know what will happen."

  
Madame Tracy reprimanded the man, shaking her head. “Now, Shadwell, Mr Aziraphale isn’t going to do anything, is he?”

The angel hurriedly shook his head. Shadwell reluctantly drew back, turning to Madame Tracy again and yawning heartily.

Aziraphale made a dissatisfied tutting noise, and stared down at the ground, making a flower slowly bloom beneath his feet.

  
Crowley leaned towards Aziraphale, and mumbled: “I didn’t know he would be here.” The angel pressed his lips together primly. “Me neither,” he said, sounding a little exasperated.

  
The sound of bicycles filled the air, and the sound of children’s chatter reverberated from the street. The group of kids stopped outside the house, and Adam walked in grandly. The others followed.

  
“Blimey!” he exclaimed, wonder filling his voice. “I didn’t ‘spect it to be so fancy!” A few affirmative murmurs came from behind him. Still looking around, they all sat down, immediately starting to chat about something. The conversation seemed to contain several repetitions of the words ‘robot’ and ‘invasion’.

Aziraphale smiled fondly at the children, muttering something about them being ‘so innocent.’

Crowley looked over to the group with slight distaste. He didn’t really like children very much, but he supposed he was obliged to like these ones. After all, their ringleader was the son of his boss.

  
He looked over at Newt and Anathema, both on opposite sides of the garden, noting that both their family members were absent. He supposed they couldn’t make it. Newt looked extremely flustered and nervous, while Anathema looked the complete opposite. In fact, she looked a little bored, and Crowley assumed that the wedding was Newt’s idea. Her wedding dress was entirely black, and Crowley smirked a little. Typical.

  
Clenching his fists tightly, he repressed the urge to do some mischief. After all, he had promised that he wouldn’t. But he was a demon. What do you expect?  
To see how closely he was being watched, he mentally unraveled a rose from the arch. Immediately, the flower wound back up again and Crowley found himself being glared at by a certain angel.

  
Right. So no mischief today. Aziraphale meant business.

  
The (very) small group had quietened down, and Newt stared pointedly at Madame Tracy. She hurriedly scurried over to the piano, and started playing a rather awful rendition of the wedding march. Aziraphale winced, and suddenly it sounded a lot nicer.

  
Anathema rolled her eyes, repressing some deep down nervousness. Newt was as red as a tomato, blushing furiously. Instead of walking down the (non existent) aisle, she simply strutted over to the wedding arch. Crowley smiled. She really didn’t seem to enjoy formal celebrations.

  
Aziraphale stood at the front of the arch, in between the two, grandly standing there, beaming.

  
Anathema cleared her throat, brushing her hair from her face.

  
“Well, I want to keep his short,” she started, a tad nervously. “I’m not very sappy and I’m not a fan of speeches, so I won’t bore you.” She took a deep breath.

  
“Newt, you are the most clumsy, geeky, dorky guy I’ve ever met. You break computers in the blink of an eye, have the worst luck I’ve ever seen, and always end up at the wrong place at the wrong time. But, I, somehow, have ended up falling in love with you. Whatever hypnotizing you used – it worked," she joked, shifting on her feet. “I love you, Newty. Even though sometimes, you can be a right pain, I still do.”

  
Newt realized Anathema was finished, and gulped.

“Right,” he said, completely forgetting his carefully remembered speech and forgetting himself completely.

“Well, Anathema, you are crazy, and cool, and well, badass, for lack of a better word, and, erm. Basically, you are the girl I could only ever dream of, who I could never ever imagine even talking to, let alone marrying. I’m just awkward old Newton, who’s no good at making model airplanes and is crap at computers. And you, somehow, like me. So I’m grateful for that. And I, erm, love you. So…yeah.”

  
Aziraphale sensed that Newt had finished, and began speaking.

  
“Newton Pulsifer, do you take Anathema Device as your loving wife?” he asked, trying to repress his excitement.

  
“I do,” Newt said, biting his lip to keep from blushing even more. Anathema smiled fondly at how embarrassed he was, giving him a reassuring grin.

  
Aziraphale cleared his throat and continued. “Anathema Device, do you take Newton Pulsifer as your loving husband?”

  
A spark shimmered in her eyes. “I do,” she breathed, suddenly excited.

  
“You may kiss the bride,” Aziraphale proclaimed, clasping his hands together and repressing a giggle.

  
Newt stared into Anathema’s eyes, watching the shimmer of happiness dance across them. This seemed impossible. He was getting married. He, Newton Pulsifer, the boy who could never make anything work, who broke computers with a single touch, was getting married! And to a girl who he once would have dreamed of marrying.

  
“I’m getting married!” he exclaimed, disbelievingly. “I can’t believe it!”

  
Anathema grinned. “Just shut up and kiss me, you nerd,” she said.

  
He complied, leaning forward and kissing her with his all. Joy flooding his senses and his mind refusing to believe it, he kissed her.

  
The Them all groaned and averted their eyes. Aziraphale and Madame Tracy cooed appreciatively, while Crowley rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. Shadwell sobbed loudly, blowing his nose on a filthy handkerchief with a noise like a foghorn.

  
Newt and Anathema pulled away, out of breath, and beaming. Aziraphale clapped happily, shooting Crowley a sharp look as the roses on the arch started morph into dark, sharp creepers.

 

A few hours later, Newt and Anathema sat together at their table, both a little tipsy. They were both silent, smiling at their small group of guests.

The Them were outside, playing some sort of variation of tag, giggling and squealing.

Shadwell and Madame Tracy were giggling drunkenly, attempting to dance with each other in the middle of the lounge, squealing almost as much as the Them outside. Shadwell leaned in and roughly kissed Madame Tracy on the cheek, and she squeaked like a schoolgirl.

  
“Mr Shadwell!” she exclaimed. “You naughty man!”

  
Anathema chuckled at the sight, thinking that it was rather like seeing your parents kiss. Gross, embarrassing, but still a little sweet.

  
She swept her eyes over to Aziraphale and Crowley, who were sitting in the corner of the room, steadily consuming alcohol. They were deep in a conversation, and both didn’t seem nearly as tipsy as they should have been. Anathema suspected that they were emptying their bloodstreams of alcohol every now and then.

  
Sipping her wine, she looked over at Newt. He looked incredibly happy, still beaming, hours later. Her lipstick left stains on the glass, and she probably looked a mess, but she didn’t really care.

  
She almost couldn’t believe she had fallen for this idiot. When she first met him, she had never anticipated even meeting him a second time, let alone anything else. He was so clumsy, and silly, and corny, but he was so endearing that she just couldn’t help it. To think, she used to dream of handsome, charming men, and instead ended up with a spiky haired, dorky, weed of a boy. And somehow, that was better.

  
Newt noticed Anathema looking at him, and his cheeks grew crimson. “What are you looking at?” he asked, a little reproachfully.

  
She rolled her eyes. “Just thinking about how utterly stupid you are, Newty,” she retorted.

  
“Oh,” he mumbled, sounding disappointed. “Stupid in a good way?”

  
Anathema laughed, shaking her head, fondness flooding through her. “Yes, idiot,” she said, then leaned forward and kissed him, still reeling from the fact that they were really married.

“There they are again,” Crowley muttered, peering at Newt and Anathema. Aziraphale sighed.

  
“Oh Crowley, do brighten up. I think it’s wonderful they’re so happy about it.”

  
They were both silent, then the angel spoke up. “So, erm, did you enjoy the wedding?” he enquired, refilling his glass shakily.

  
Crowley looked at the angel’s expectant face, then grinned. “Yeah, it was alright,” he said mischeviously.

  
“Good job sprucing it up,” he added. Aziraphale beamed.

  
“Why thank you, my dear. I also think I did a grand job of it.”

  
“Perhaps weddings aren’t so bad after all,” Crowley mused. “I mean, anything’s alright if you get to drink after. And the kissing isn’t so gross, once you get used to it.”

  
Aziraphale stared at Crowley with a strange expression on his face. “So, do you understand love a bit more, now?” he asked, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

  
Crowley looked back at the angel, then slowly nodded.

  
“Yeah,” he said. “I think I do.”


End file.
